


I've Got Soul But I'm Not A Soldier

by Safiyabat



Series: SPN Season 11 Episode Tags [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 04:24:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5150132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Safiyabat/pseuds/Safiyabat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>** Spoilers for S11 E05 "Thin Lizzie"</p>
<p>Sam visits Len at MCI-Cedar Junction and has a conversation with him about his condition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I've Got Soul But I'm Not A Soldier

**Author's Note:**

> No beta. Sorry!

            Sam passed his credentials to the warden and gave his best “shark” smile. He’d gotten complements on it at Stanford, not that any of those people had the first clue that he’d practiced it in roadhouses and monster dens across the lower forty-eight. It had only gotten better in the eleven years ( _five thousand and eleven? One hundred eighty?)_  since then, between the foray into demon blood and then his time without a soul. He could still pull it out when he needed to, let a little of who he’d been show through. 

            The warden inspected his credentials, and those of the completely fraudulent organization he’d created to back him, with a thoroughness that Sam would have appreciated under any other circumstance, but he finally passed them back. “It looks like everything is in order. Although I don’t know what you’re here about.  The prisoner pled guilty; there’s no innocence for you to prove.  He’s a killer.” 

            “He may be a killer, Warden.”  Sam widened his smile in a way that he knew would make his opponent uncomfortable. “When a person with no discernable motive gives a confession to a crime for which no supporting evidence exists, the possibility of a voluntary false confession has to be raised. And Len certainly fit the profile for someone with some deeply-seated issues related to the Borden case before the murders started.”  He held up a hand. “He may be guilty, and he may be innocent but disturbed.  Either way, there’s certainly no harm in letting an attorney speak to him and determine the truthfulness of his confession.  That’s what Shine a Light is all about.”

            The gray-haired man stood up and grimaced.  “I suppose not.  I can’t say that I’m a fan.  I mean there must be cases much more deserving of Shine a Light’s time.  I’m certainly not going to pretend that innocent men don’t wind up in prison, or that they don’t confess to crimes that they didn’t commit for whatever reason.  But I have to say, I’m not sure that Len’s your guy.”  He managed a wry grin.  “But I suppose that you get paid either way.  You’ll have attorney-client privilege while you’re in there, so no one will be listening in for you.  You’ll have to actively get the guard’s attention to get out.   You assume all risk; you signed the waiver when you showed up.”          

            “I understand.  I’m sure of my safety while I’m with Len, Warden.” 

            The warden shivered.  “It’s your funeral, Mr. Reznor.  There’s something about him…”

            Sam fought back a shudder.  He’d been like that once.  Okay, he’d been different from the others they’d seen.  He’d had control over himself, but he’d also had a focus, a goal. If he’d just been adrift, with nothing to anchor him (like hunting), who knew what he’d have become? He’d already been a monster before losing his soul.

            They walked down a series of corridors and were buzzed through a sequence of doors.  They saw a whole host of men, locked into cells ( _not Cages, not the same, although he remembered enough from Green River to know that prison was its own special Hell)_ and lined up against the wall, eyes boring into both of the free men.  Finally, the warden opened up a door and held it open for Sam.  “Here you go, Mr. Reznor.  The prisoner is inside, waiting for you.” 

            “Thank you.  I’ll let these gentlemen know when I’m ready to come out.”  Sam smiled, even though the guards sneered at him, and turned all of his attention to Len.

            Len didn’t look so good in orange.  It gave him a jaundiced look; well, that was to be expected. There weren’t a lot of white guys that looked good in orange.  The chains seemed like a bit much, but protocol was protocol.  _Speaking of which,_ he thought to himself, and reached into the inner pocket on his suit. Inside was a very small button, attached to a very small frequency jammer.  The warden might have promised that he’d give attorney-client privilege, and he seemed like a nice enough guy. 

            Sam wasn’t Len’s lawyer.  And he hadn’t gotten as far as he had by trusting that people who seemed like nice guys were, well, nice.

            Len smiled when he saw Sam.  “Oh, it’s you. I had a feeling you’d come.”

            “Did you?”  Sam raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

            The convict shrugged, sending chains rattling.  “I don’t know.  You seemed like the type.  You were concerned about how Dean broke the news.  About the whole, you know.  The thing. The soulless thing.”

            Sam nodded, shoulders slumping.  “The soulless thing.”  He took a deep breath.  “Len – I get how you’re feeling, or rather how you’re not feeling, but –“

            “I don’t think you do.”  Len’s face stayed perfectly calm and serene, and his bandaged hand rested on the table in front of him.  “You obviously have a soul.”

            “That’s right.  I do.” Sam swallowed hard and tugged at his tie.  “I didn’t always.”

            Len blinked.  “But you said that a person doesn’t get his soul back.”

            “It was a one time only deal and a damn stupid idea.” Sam shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong, what my soul was dealing with – well, it’s not important.”

            Len tilted his head a little bit.  “Mine’s being eaten.  What’s worse than that?”

            Sam swallowed.  “Locked in a cage in Hell with two angry archangels. But it’s out now.  Anyway.  It’s not a competition.  I mean… the whole point is that once the soul is put back in place, the person has to remember everything that happened when they lived without their soul. And the emotional and mental effects of everything that happened.”

            Len sat back and processed this.  “So you’re saying that if they can ever find my soul – which, I don’t know, it’s being eaten – I’ll have to deal with how I would have felt about killing someone with my soul.”  He didn’t look like it bothered him much and it probably didn’t.  Sam remembered that, the cool logic and reason that had been so calming.  He missed it. Yes, he’d been awful without his soul, he’d acted with no regard for those around him, but he missed the days when his fears and anxieties and grief and pain didn’t cloud his reason.

            Sam took a deep breath.  “Like it was yesterday.  And it never goes away.” He looked away. “The thing is, what you did – you took out someone who was killing people, and you saved me and Dean. I heard about why, and believe me, I get it.”  He chuckled, no humor in it. “I get it.  It wasn’t ‘for’ us, and it wasn’t ‘for’ doing the right thing, or whatever.”  

            “But…”

            Sam huffed..  “Right. My point is that you still did it. And if – and that’s a mighty big if – there comes a time when someone shoves that soul back inside of you, you can find some comfort in the fact that you saved a lot of lives that day.”

            “You’re assuming that it can be found.” Len shook his head.

            “I did say ‘if.’  And assuming that it can be found – well.  I’ve found some that were in great shape, just hanging out in storage. And well – there were others.”

            “Yours.”

            “Mine.” Sam cleared his throat and opened a folder, mostly for the benefit of the cameras.  “How’ve you been in here?”

            He shrugged.  “Some of the guys gave me a bit of a hassle that first week.  I took out the leader in the shower and I haven’t had a problem sense.”

            Sam forced a smile.  “Do you truly want to be here, Len?”

            Len looked away for a moment.  “I don’t think I’m safe in the outside world.  I think I’m likely to kill again.  When I do – well, I know that there are innocent men in here. But in here, they’re more likely to be able to keep me away from others, for their safety.  Maybe I won’t succeed.” 

            “I’m sorry this happened to you, Len.”  Sam swallowed past a lump in his throat.  “You didn’t deserve it.”

            He shrugged.  “Did you deserve it when it happened to you?”

            Sam met his eyes.  “Every minute of it. And every second of what happened after.” He got up and shook Len’s hand. “Let me know if you need anything while you’re in here, Len.  We’ll make sure you’re taken care of.” 

            He signaled to the guards, who let him out eventually. Len would be okay in MCI-Cedar Junction. He’d done the objectively right thing at the time.  Sam hated to think about him in there, trapped and alone, but Len seemed to be okay with it. Sam would have to be too.


End file.
